It Puts Its Name on the Dotted Line…

Violent thoughts.

Rage, burning inside like hot coals dipped in acid. The bile rises, choking off any semblance of refreshment that breathing could offer. The blood boils, setting the skin on fire.

People, everywhere. They stir uncomfortably like rats in a cage, going about their mindless fidgeting ignorantly, hopelessly. Escape is an incomprehensible fate. They are pointless. Captivity has rendered them worthless, as drooling and pathetic as the day they were born. Shuffling and sightless, they queue because they can imagine no other existence.

I pity them. I hate them. I must destroy them all.

Man, I seriously hate waiting in line at the DMV.


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